The Illustrious Onnagata
by Angrybee
Summary: In the shady and dangerous pleasure districts of 1860's Kyoto, young Shuichi tries to win his freedom from indentured servitude by becoming one of the illustrious onnagata of Gion. But can a young heart remain pure within the seedy Kishibeya?
1. Chapter 1: The Kishibeya

DISCLAIMER: Gravitation and it's characters are the intellectual property of Maki Murakami. This story means no offense to the creator, and is merely a work of fandom, attempting to further endorse interest and appreciation of the Gravitation manga and anime.  
  
GRAVITATION is a story of shonen-ai. Many of the characters depicted in Gravitation are homosexual or bisexual. If this is not to your liking, please do not read the story, as I would not wish to offend.

* * *

**The Illustrious Onnagata**

****

* * *

(Kyoto - 1860)  
  
On the bad end of Gion, near to Miyagawa-cho, the late afternoon patrons of the Kishibeya were even more lethargic than usual. It was, in a word, the heat. Sweltering. Swimming. Ceaseless heat that even the Kishibeya's proximity to the River Kamo could not defeat. No one could remember a summer like this. No one. Not even old Kameko-san from the Sumiya in Shimabara...and there were rumors that -she- was almost 90 years old.  
  
"It couldn't possibly be this bad in Yoshiwara," Haruma groaned, swishing up to the house bar to fetch more sake. "Summers are always delightful in Edo."  
  
Harutaki, the most senior of the otoko geisha working at the Kishibeya, flipped his fan at his face in annoyance, trying to keep his makeup from melting off. "You think everything was better in Edo, Ma-kun. I wish you would go back there." Slumping dramatically to the side, Taki sighed noisily and flitted his eyes from left to right, hoping a patron or admirer would notice, but the half-dozen old otama in the room all looked nigh-unconscious. "Ma-kun, find someone to fan me. I can't move anymore. I feel faint."  
  
At that moment, as oft she did, the Okaasan appeared as if from nowhere, and proceeded to smack the back of Harutaki's arm with her tessen. No one knew when or -where- Okaasan had procured the iron fan, but she'd used it as an instrument of discipline for as long as Harutaki could remember. "Che, don't be hard on Taki," Haruma-kun implored, though he stepped out of the reach of Okaasan's tessen, "He's just trying to keep his makeup and kimono looking fine."  
  
"Useless. Don't stand around chatting, Ma-kun. Get back to work. And you..." Okasaan's already pinched expression grew even icier as she glared at Harutaki. "I suppose you're going to tell me that it is too hot for you to perform?"  
  
Harutaki only closed his eyes. He couldn't even summon the anger to tell her off today.  
  
"Useless. How did I end up with so many useless otoko? Where's Hiroshi? Get that boy in here. Make him play something lively. When the customers are this dead, they don't spend enough money to even get Harutaki's wigs cleaned."  
  
Hiroshi, who had been sitting -very- still inside the coolest part of the sangyou, reluctantly slid open the door of the pantry and peeked his head out. The thin sheen of sweat which coated his lean face made him shine like a ripe apple, waxy yet succulent. Each step he took caused the cord of brown hair dangling from the paper-tied ponytail at the nape of his neck to jingle from the tiny line of brass bells fixed into his coiffure. Hiroshi's calmly confident exterior had already gained him quite a few admirers, much to Hakutaki's chagrin. Nonetheless, Taki wrote most of it off as being silly old otama in love with the sound of the shamisen. It didn't matter, Taki knew. No matter how hard they worked, no mere shamisen player could compare with a dancer. And Harutaki was the best dancer in the sangyou.  
  
As Hiroshi made his way across the open room to a waiting zabuton on the slightly raised stage, he found bittersweet thoughts zipping through his mind. On one hand, he was now stuck here, in this loathsome place, where day in and day out his lot in life consisted only of pleasing customers with his shamisen. But, on the other hand, at least he had food, and shelter, and the knowledge that the fee the sangyou had paid for him would feed his family for some time yet to come. And, perhaps someday, he would play shamisen in one of the great theaters of Gion, earning enough to pay back his debts to the sangyou. You never knew what could happen here.  
  
Gion was the district of dreams.  
  
Hiroshi carefully tucked his thin lavender kimono under his knees as he knelt and brought the shamisen into position. Dressing in woman's clothing wasn't so bad. At least he didn't have to affect full geisha costume and makeup like the dancers. Those wigs were heavy. And when they went out, the dancers had to wear high geta, just like female geisha. Now, if Hiroshi could just find a patron to help him get an audition at one of the great theaters.  
  
As he plotted, he began to strum the shamisen.  
  
"Okaasan?" One of the boys from the kitchen barely poked his head out of the back hallway to whisper at the house matron. "Your new purchase is here."  
  
The Okaasan put on her curt and practiced smile, and smacked Hakutaki on the back of the arm with her tessen again, just hard enough to leave a faint bruise beneath the kimono. "Yare, yare. Looks like you may have someone to fan you, after all."

* * *

"What scruffy piece of trash have you brought me now, Zaiten?" The procurer, a rakish looking man lacking eyebrows, shoved the child on the back, causing it to stumble forward and fall on its knees in front of Okasaan. Zaiten, of course, was a clever man. He'd brought the boy most of the distance blindfolded, to help ensure that even if he ran away, he couldn't find his way back without consulting someone.  
  
Someone who, hopefully, would be a good enough citizen to return the sangyuo's new property.  
Okaasan's lips upturned into a look of distaste as the boy raised the sleeve of his threadbare yukata to wipe at a drop of sweat trickling down from behind his ear. He was, in a word, scrawny. Incredibly...scrawny.  
  
Okaasan reached down to tug the blindfold off of the boy, flipping the nasty rag at the servant standing to her left. Roughly, she pulled his face left and right, examining his skin, his mouth, nose...and.  
  
Interestingly colored eyes. Blue, but not the blue of the sea. They were a color that had no name, dyed a pale purpled indigo, like the late evening sky.  
  
"What is your name, boy?"  
  
The quivering, disoriented child replied, "Shuichi."  
  
If the woman heard his answer, she didn't show it. She seemed more preoccupied with scraping her fingernails painfully through his hair. "No lice. But..." Okaasan slid her blackened fingers together. Something in Shuichi's hair had rubbed off onto her skin. "-What- is -this-?"  
  
Zaiten suddenly took to a fit of coughing, causing him to be completely unable to answer.  
  
"It's some sort of oil," Shuichi whispered, looking at the ground. Zaiten had told him not to speak unless a question was asked of him, and she -had- asked a question. Nonetheless, he still had the distinct impression he was going to be in trouble for ratting out the procurer. "To make my hair black."  
  
Okaasan's thin lips pressed together as she barked an order for the servant to bring two buckets of water. These produced, Shuichi found water being suddenly poured over his head without warning, and vigorous scrubbing being done to remove the oils. "Pink. His hair is pinker than sakura blossoms. How can I have an otoko geisha with pink hair?"  
  
Zaiten shrugged and lit his pipe, "That's your problem, not mine. Put a wig on him."  
  
"This significantly lowers the price, Zaiten-san. Wigs are expensive. I can't possibly pay as much as we originally agreed."  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
As the pair squabbled over money, Shuichi hazarded a flick of his eyes upwards. This place... It even -smelled- rotten. Not at all airy and light like the shrine.  
  
Well, the shrine had been airy and light... Until it burned down.  
  
Here, shadows permeated every corner, even during the sweltering afternoon. Someone had made an attempt at a garden in the courtyard, and then apparently lost interest. Where the weeds stopped, moss or ivy began, some of it clinging to the ancient two-story building. It almost looked as if the walls were bleeding slick green. All around, the heady call of cicadas pulsated rhythmically, as if screaming from the overwhelming heat. Shuichi thought he could hear the rushing sound of water coming from somewhere, but between the cicadas and the argument, he couldn't be sure.  
  
But, the building itself looked not at ALL as lovingly tended or immaculately kept as the shrine he once called home. There were spots at the corners where the wood appeared to be flaking away. And even the slatted blinds which hung on the western wall had faded from what must have once been a brilliant red to a sad excuse for orange.  
  
"How old is he?" Okaasan asked, once again pawing at Shuichi to get a look at his neck. "And if you lie again..."  
  
Zaiten cut her off before she could spout the oft-used threat of never buying from him again. "Fourteen. But look, he's so small, he'll easily pass for twelve."  
  
"Twenty ryo."  
  
Shuichi had never even heard of that much money in his life.  
  
"Forty. He's unique."  
  
"Twenty five. And my customers don't want unique. They want a particular standard of beauty and talent.  
  
"Well, if they want -that-, they should go to some place with -standards-."  
  
The pair glared at each other for a long time, before the Okaasan finally murmured a chilly, "Thirty ryo."  
  
"Done."  
  
And so it was that Shuichi's debts to the Kishibeya began at thirty ryo, enough money to feed a family of five for over two years. Unfortunately, this would only be the beginning of what he owed the house. Before he knew it, he would be so in the hole that an entire life of working would not pay it off.  
  
For, that was the way things worked....  
  
In the hanamachi.

* * *

"You'll be sharing a room with me and Hiroshi-kun," the serving boy said with a smile. It was the first time someone hadn't spoken to Shuichi as if he were property in a week. The upstairs of the Kishibeya had two wings, the boy had told him, one for living...and one for entertaining. There was no need for Shuichi to concern himself with the other wing for now. "This room is Okaasan's. Don't go in unless she calls for you. Um. Down that hall for Baachan, she's in charge of the servants and the kitchen. Some of the servants live in the quarters out back, some live with their families elsewhere. Now this..." The servant boy stopped in the hall and tapped open the shoji just a few inches. Inside, a room filled with bright colored kimonos, an elegant ikebana, and a rather expensive wall scroll depicting a dancer reaching his arms towards a gilded moon, shone with festive glamour. Shuichi barely contained his gasp. He had never witnessed such finery amassed into one small place before. "This room belongs to the senior otoko geisha, Haruma and Harutaki."  
  
Shuichi could almost detect the small bubble of admiration in the other boy's voice. "Our sempais get the very best, because they make the most money for the house. Someday..."  
  
The boy shook his head and closed the door, but Shuichi understood what he meant to say. Someday, he too wanted to have fine things.  
  
"Anyway..." The boy's step picked up and he hopped and skipped in his pumpkin-orange yukata towards the last door on the row. "This is our room. Hiroshi-kun is downstairs playing shamisen right now, so it's just you and me."  
  
Shuichi tilted his head around the frame of the paper door to look inside. The much smaller, and more subdued, room of six tatami had, nonetheless, an airy and comforting feel to it. This perhaps had to do with the large sliding window which someone had thrown open to allow a non-existent breeze to waft inside. "Can I..."  
  
"Un!" The boy chirped, hopping inside and leaning out the window. "Look...you can see almost all of Gion from here. The river is that way. And Pontocho is over there. And the great theaters... The highlight of Gion..."  
  
As the boy babbled, Shuichi timidly made his way to look out the window onto the strange city. Sprawling before his eyes, row upon row of lively streets, and brightly colored houses, all encased by the grey forms of distant mountains. In the road below, men dragged carts behind their haggard and sweaty forms as women in elegant kimonos tried to hide themselves in the shadows, fanning themselves furtively to combat the heat. So many sounds that he couldn't identify echoed within Shuichi's ears. Even the calls of the barkers sounded garbled. "I can't understand them."  
  
"Stilted Kyoto dialect. It gets worse the further you go into Gion. Every hanamachi district has their own way of speaking. You'll learn it in time, don't worry. Where are you from, anyway?"  
  
Shuichi almost missed the question as he watched a fantastically dressed woman walk slowly down the street, surrounded by child attendants dressed in the richest color of red he'd ever seen. Even -blood- couldn't be that red, he thought. She wore geta that had to be six inches tall, if they were one, and had a face painted so white it looked like one of his sister's dolls.  
  
"Um. From a village north of Edo. Uh..." Shuichi tore his gaze away from the street that bustled despite the heat. "I didn't ask your name."  
  
"Everyone calls me Ken-chan for now, until I get a professional name." Ken-chan brushed his hands off on his yukata and gave Shuichi a small bow. "Usually I'm not wearing this, but one of the servant girls got sick, so I had to work in the kitchen."  
  
"It is good to meet you, Ken-chan," Shuichi replied, bowing deeply. It was, indeed, good to meet someone like Ken-chan. Someone who had answers, and didn't mind sharing them with the newcomer. "May I hazard to ask... I mean, I am not quite certain... What -is- this place, anyway?"  
  
The smile slipped from Ken-chan's face a notch as he turned back to look out at the window.  
  
"This is the Kishibeya. A sangyou."  
  
"I'm sorry," Shuichi murmured, bowing again. He felt dizzy from not being able to understand this massive place, this busy city, these strange people. But, if he could just figure out what it was he was expected to do here...he could try his hardest to get it done. Afterwards, he could go back home and help his mother rebuild the shrine. "But, I don't understand. A sangyou?"  
  
Ken-chan turned his face even further away from Shuichi, until only a smooth line of neck and the swooping curve of Ken-chan's short black ponytail could be seen. "Un. It's a restaurant..."  
  
"Oh! A restaurant! I could help in the kitchen...!"  
  
"And a teahouse..."  
  
"Like the ageyas between our village and Edo, where people stop to drink and freshen up?" Even -that- wouldn't be so bad, Shuichi thought. Sure, those places got rowdy sometimes, but that was mostly because of bandits and other unsavory types. Surely there would be less of those in the city.  
  
"...And a brothel." Ken-chan leaned his forehead against the frame of the window as he repeated mournfully, "The Kishibeya is a brothel."

* * *

In the Next Chapter: Shuichi learns more about the inhabitants of the Kishibeya, and we learn more about Shuichi. Shuichi gets his first kimono, meets a very strange customer, and gets peek at the most illustrious onnagata in Gion.

* * *

Glossary:  
  
Otama - Gay person  
  
Otoko Geisha - What male geisha eventually took to calling themselves. Here I use it differently than the "taikomochi", which are the entertainers that are more like jesters or comedians. They are also different from the kabuki actors and "onnagata" that will feature more prominently later in the story.  
  
Sangyou - Restaurant/teahouse/brothel. In the Kishibeya they serve light, easily prepared and stored meals along with alcohol. The otoko geisha entertain in the main room unless a private party is arranged for upstairs. The otoko geisha of the Kishibeya all perform dressed as women, but only the senior ones (Ma-kun and Taki) are currently allowed to fashion themselves after female geisha. The dressing as women is a tribute to the highly sought-after onnagata in the theaters.  
  
Ryo - One gold coin. A LOT of money.  
  
Hanamachi - The "flower and willow" districts, or pleasure districts. In Kyoto, there were five, but Gion was best known for its kabuki theaters.  
  
Shamisen - three stringed "banjo" like instrument.  
  
Un - Yes.  
  
Che - Shit. Damn. A curse word.  
  
Zabuton - cushion for sitting.


	2. Chapter 2: The Announcement

--------------------------------

**Chapter 2: The Announcement**--------------------------------As Ken-chan helped him unpack his miserable bundle of belongings, Shuichi realized that there was someone else in the room. Looking over his shoulder, he mistook the person in the doorway for a rather stately young woman and immediately fell on his face in an overeager attempt to bow.The person in the doorway only blinked in confusion."Ano...Ken-chan..." Hiroshi said, scratching his head and producing a gentle tinkling sound from the bells in his hair, "Who is this?""This is Shuichi! Okaasan bought him today. New apprentice.""How tragic for him," Hiroshi mumbled. Despite his disheartening words, Hiro stepped forward and nudged Shuichi's hands with his toe. "You really shouldn't bow that way, if you were wearing a kimono, you would tear it."Before Shuichi could ask why he would be caught dead wearing a kimono, he realized that Hiro was wearing one, and somehow found the intelligence to stop the statement from coming out of his mouth. But, intelligence, or really any sort of rational thought at all, came hard pressed at the moment.

Shuichi only had a very vague idea of what sort of things went on at a brothel. He'd heard half-whispers from pilgrims who visited the shrine about the women who sold their bodies illegally by the roadside. Sell their bodies? Shuichi wasn't exactly quite sure what that meant, only that it must have been quite bad from the tone of the whispers. And his mother and sister had always told him to never speak to a woman with her obi tied backwards, for they were loose women from brothels who would surely ruin his virtues. Though, exactly what a loose woman was, or how she could ruin him, Shuichi couldn't say for certain.

Shuichi lifted his head a few inches from the floor to peek at Hiroshi and check if the other boy wore his obi backwards. But, Hiroshi's obi, a deep green with a flutter of white mums embroidered into it, tied at the -back- and sported a long scissor-like train.

So, Hiroshi probably wasn't loose, and he certainly wasn't a woman.

"I...I'm Shuichi," squeaked the newcomer, slowly and cautiously pulling himself back up into a sitting position. Even though Hiroshi was now -obviously- not female, he still was the most fabulously attired creature Shuichi had ever seen. "Please indulge my ignorance and carelessness until I know my proper place, sempai."A soft smile, understanding and kind, crossed Hiroshi's face as he knelt down in the corner of the room and began to disassemble his shamisen. The poor kid with the pink hair looked so timid. In fact, Hiroshi could almost imagine him shivering despite the heat. Coming to the Kishibeya... Hiroshi remembered when he had arrived not six months before. Even though the boys in the sangyou of Yanagi street played the parts of demure women for their customers, each and every one had to have a heart of tempered steel.This Shuichi looked less like "steel" and more like squishy cooked "eel"."You don't have to be formal with me, really, Shuichi." A quiet voice, but somehow friendly and confident floated from the corner. "I'm Hiroshi.""A pleasure to meet you, Hiroshi-san.""Just Hiroshi. Hiro if you can manage it."Shuichi watched in fascination as Hiro fit his full sized shamisen into a very small, portable box. "Um...yes. Thank you, Hiro.""So, Shuichi...do you have a gei?"Shuichi tried to rack his brain to figure out if he had a gei, and if so, where he might have stored it. "Ano..." For an answer, he tilted his head to peer at Ken-chan."You know, like an art," Ken-chan replied distractedly as he pawed through Shuichi's things with mild alarm. They would have to get rid of these ratty homespun yukatas. Well, maybe Shuichi could sleep in them... "Playing a musical instrument or reciting poetry or singing or dancing... You know, an art.""Well, I learned some shrine dances. My mother and sister were mikos..."Ken-chan and Hiroshi immediately stopped their activities and shot each other meaningful looks that lingered on far past their expiration date.

"What? Is it bad? Tell me..." Shuichi could feel himself being worked into a frenzy from the lack of information. "Please..."

"It's just..." Ken-chan stopped abruptly and went back to folding a yukata.Hiroshi put his shamisen case in the corner and turned to face Shuichi. Of course Ken-chan wouldn't say it. Ken-chan practically idolized Harutaki. He even wanted the professional name 'Haruken', no matter how much everyone told him it sounded too lewd even for an otoko geisha. "Our sempai, Harutaki, is the only dancer in the Kishibeya right now, and he takes great pride in his work."Work. Yeah. If you could call what Harutaki did -work-. And if you could call the vindictive haughtiness with which Taki comported himself -pride.Nonetheless, Hiroshi found himself secretly pleased. Maybe Okaasan was getting tired of Taki's antics. Or, maybe Okasaan just had need of another dancer. Either way, a plan began to form in Hiroshi's head, a plan to help out the newest member of the sangyou, and maybe himself, as well."How old are you, Shuichi?""Fourteen."Hiroshi didn't believe it. The boy didn't look a day over twelve. Fourteen. That only gave them over a year to prepare. Thankfully, Okaasan had just enough scruples to not put a boy up for grabs before genpuku. And particularly promising apprentices were kept from the more seedy activities of the Kishibeya until they were licensed.Hiroshi slid forward on the tatami, one knee in front of the other, taking tiny kneeling steps until he ended up only about a foot away from Shuichi. He grabbed the younger boy's hands in his and with a sincere smile said."Everything is going to be alright for you, Shuichi. As long as you work hard at your gei. Everything is going to be okay."Shuichi almost collapsed in relief.In trying circumstances, it is amazing how quickly a stranger can become a friend. And a friend was -exactly- what Shuichi needed.

* * *

"Ah, it's almost sundown. The waiters will be arriving soon." Hiroshi leaned against the windowframe as Ken-chan worked the tight knots and loops of his obi loose from behind. "This is ridiculous, taking off one obi just to put on another...""Yeah, but you can't go out with Yuuji-san in this obi. You wore it yesterday."Shuichi had no idea what the pair were babbling about. He was just glad to have food. Ken-chan had produced some plum-filled onigiri for him, which Shuichi was gobbling ravenously. He hadn't really had a full meal since leaving Kobe.

Ken-chan had also practically -ripped- off Shuichi's old faded green yukata, one which Shu's mother had lengthened at the bottom with a piece of fabric that didn't match the top. Money had to be conserved wherever possible to buy rice, or millet, if rice wasn't available. Ugh. Millet. Not much better than stooping to eating grass, really.

As a replacement for the old outfit, Shuichi found himself sumarily stuffed into the finest yukata he'd ever worn, a creamy orange fabric that felt like flowing water against his skin. However, a bit of a problem had arisen with the thick canary-yellow belt. When Shuichi attempted to tie it at his waist in the normal fashion, Ken-chan had batted his hands away. Together, the other two boys wrapped the belt around and around, high up onto his ribcage. Just like a girl would wear her yukata.Something about this place had to do with dressing like a woman. Shuichi wasn't sure but...if dressing like a woman helped him pay off his debts to the Kishibeya, then he couldn't see how it would hurt. He didn't know anyone in this city, anyway. How could he be humiliated in front of his friends if they weren't here? Besides, his mother and sister were women, and of course dressed as women, and no one had more dignity or pride than they did."I still can't believe Yuuji-san took you on," Ken-chan grunted as he pulled Hiroshi's obi in a different direction. "So lucky to have such a reputable Oniisan.""Infamous, you mean.""Most taikomochi are. Isn't it in the job description?"Hiroshi craned his head to look over his shoulder with a proud smile. Infamous, yes. But -very- popular. And the more popular Yuuji became, the more of a chance Hiroshi had to become noticed by someone important. And getting noticed was the first step to getting -out- of the Kishibeya's clutches.Across in the room, Shuichi winced. He'd gotten a piece of plum on the sleeve of his new yukata, leaving a bit of a dark spot. Hoping that the pair wouldn't notice, he brought the fabric to his mouth and sucked lightly in an attempt to clean it off. Even the fabric tasted good, glazed with plum. Mmm. Plum.

Suddenly, the bit of sleeve slipped from Shuichi's lips with a moistened "pop". Sure. He had food now. Delicious fare that would have only been available to his family and friends during huge festivals or celebrations back home. But, what about his mother? What about Maiko? Right now, did they have food? Were they eating millet and weak broth? Were they...going without?

No, no, of course they had food. They had the money from him being sold to the Kishibeya now. It would be enough...for a while.

Until the money ran out.A high-pitched shriek jerked Shuichi from his ruminations. Ken-chan had dropped the train on Hiroshi's obi, and now stood leaning a good portion of his upper-torso out the window. He'd grabbed the startled Hiroshi by the collar of his kimono and proceeded to drag Hiro forward. "Hiro...look...LOOK!""It can't be...""It -is-. It most certainly -is-. Look. And Noriko is there, too.""That's not Noriko," Hiroshi mumbled."Yes it is.""No, it -isn't-. Noriko is taller.""Noriko is only taller on stage because...." Hiroshi clapped his hand over Ken-chan's mouth.

Apparently, the squabble had gone on long enough. "Shhh," Hiroshi whispered, slowly letting go of Ken-chan's face. The pair both turned again, stricken with silence, to peer into the street below. In the seconds that passed, the thick awe in the air grew ever more palpable, until even Shuichi tore himself away from his onigiri to tiptoe over to the window.

What he saw there would change his life forever...Dainty and graceful, the woman on the street moved luxuriously through the world like a sleepy koi through water. Every precise movement dripped with a fluid weight, stirringly fascinating, a contradiction of deep charisma and effervescent sweetness. The full view of her face obscured by strings of miniscule red beads, Shuichi found himself nonetheless shocked by lush saffron-painted lips made all the more unsettling by egg-white painted skin tinged at the cheeks and under the eyes with a blush of sakura pink. A massive curved headdress, jutting with rays of gold and tortoiseshell, and rimmed with dainty sprigs of pink flowers, sat balanced precariously on piles of sleek black hair, looking much like a the sun itself had upturned itself to set into the woman's head. In the awestruck silence of the street, where everyone had come to a complete standstill or begun to bow, the wind caught every sound of the tassels in her hair, betrayed every rustle of the heavy silks of her voluminous kimono skirts. The blue, yellow, and pink fabrics, gathered into her left hand with a sweeping gesture and lifted off the dusty street, revealed a scintillating blood red under-kimono hanging to the tops of naked feet sitting atop six inch high black geta."Just amazing," Hiroshi muttered, obviously enrapt. Ken-chan agreed. "Flawless. Completely flawless."And Shuichi had been struck mute. This couldn't even be a mortal woman. Even the pictures of the goddess Benten in the shrine at home lacked the power and brilliance of this vision.

An entire retinue walked slowly behind the woman. In addition to a myriad of child assistants clad in crimson, two taller, striking figures caught Shuichi's eye. The first, a slender, feminine man with a purple sheen to his hair, clad in a bright blue gi and white hakama strode confidently to the woman's left. Behind them, a taller man with an outrageously bizarre hat in a rainbow colored patchwork outfit ran from one side of the street to another, handing out papers.

The procession came to a stop one house down from the Kishibeya. With an almost indiscernible flick of her wrist, the woman produced a fan and proceeded to use it to cover the lower half of her face. With her free hand, she let go of her kimono, and lifted her arm upwards, curling her fingers into a strange, yet precise pose at her brow."An announcement?" Ken-chan asked."They wouldn't bring K-san along unless -something- was up."The man in the hat whirled around three times in the middle of the street and then threw up his arms before beginning rather jocular and -loud- speech. "Most -honorable- people of Gion, her ladyship begs your kind indulgence..."As if on cue, the woman's pose changed as she pulled the fan to the side of her face and bowed."Starting tonight, the Seguchi Temple Theater will be playing Chikamatsu Monzaemon's 'Love Suicides at Sonezaki'. Her ladyship, shocking the local officials with her boldness..."At this point, the woman grabbed her skirts and whirled around. She fluttered her fan near her shoulder and leaned in to "whisper" something into the ear of the purple-haired man. An exaggerated look of shock crossed his face, causing the gathering crowd to break out into a ripple of laughter."...Ahem. Shocking local officials with her boldness, will take the stage as the tragic, but lovely, courtesan Ohatsu!"The crowd's approval could not have been more palpable."Accompanying her will be none other than the renowned Noriko-san playing kokyu...along with many other special guests!"The purple-haired man gave the audience a sweeping bow.Ken-chan elbowed Hiro. "I told you that was Noriko."There were several more announcements that Shuichi didn't quite understand, along with a reiteration of the location and times for the play. Afterwards, onlookers rushed the man Hiro had identified as 'K-san', clamoring for slips of paper. And yet, Shuichi noticed, everyone in the street seemed to pointedly avoid the other two figures, almost as if they -knew- talking to them would be inappropriate.Well, everyone avoided them...until Okaasan appeared in the street.Scuttling up to the pair, her pinched face painfully pulled into some fake semblance of delight, Okaasan bowed first to Noriko-san and then to 'her ladyship.Shuichi couldn't quite hear what Okaasan said, but from her gesture back towards the Kishibeya, he assumed that the sangyou's proprietor had asked the pair to come inside."Do not..." Noriko-san said loudly, as he moved himself protectively in front of the woman, "...address Sakuma-sama so familiarly!"A surprised silence drifted over the assembled crowd, a rippling anti-titter which ended with everyone in the street staring at Okaasan."I do not mean to insult Sakuma-sama," Okaasan replied, bowing low to both the pair once more, "But, was she not once acquainted with Kishibeya-san, long before her days with the Seguchi Theater. Perhaps she merely does not recognize the face of her former mistress. It has been long, indeed, since we have spoken."Shuichi watched as Noriko-san took a step forward, drew a cherry-colored bokken from where it hung at his hip, and used it to poke Okaasan in the chest and push her backwards. "You are mistaken, Kishibeya-san. Sakuma-sama would never -willingly- associate with the likes of you, nor with such a disreputable business as the Kishibeya. I am sure everyone here will agree that Sakuma-sama's honor is sacrosanct in this matter!"

A murmur of agreement floated through the crowd.

Okaasan brought her hand to the tip of the bokken and attempted to remove it from her chest with a scowl. But, instead, Noriko pushed all of his weight against the curved wood, sending Okaasan sprawling into the street.

The sputtering, now dirtied, proprietor of the Kishibeya wiped at her face with the back of her kimono sleeve and pulled herself up. "Say what you wish, Noriko-san. I think everyone here knows the truth about you, don't we? The only sort of person who would be an expert at playing the kokyu would be..."

Shuichi didn't even see how it happened, but in a flash, the jovial man who had given the speech, K-san, was standing behind Okaasan, his arm wrapped around her throat, a glittering tanto pressed to her chin. "Not another word, Kishibeya-san." The now very -deadly- looking K-san leaned forward and whispered into Okaasan's ear, and whatever he said, it turned her as white as a ghost.Once Okaasan was released, she scuttled back towards the Kishibeya, her hurt pride obviously dragging behind her as heavy as a sack of rocks. Shuichi barely even knew the woman, but the look on her face bespoke no mercy. This was not, in Okaasan's estimation, even -close- to being over.Shuichi turned his attention back to the fabulous woman identified as "Sakuma-sama". Had she been shocked? Afraid? Worried? No. Not a single expression had passed those starkly painted features the -entire- time. Like some sort of inanimate doll, Sakuma-sama had spent the entire argument...impassively motionless.

And yet, once Okaasan had re-entered the Kishibeya, a tiny breeze meandered through the street, billowing the hems of Sakuma-sama's kimono. Her eyes lifted, as if to keep from having dirt blown into them from the wind... Eyelashes, lined with the same deep red as her lips, fluttered once, twice, and then....

Sakuma-sama looked directly at the upper window of the Kishibeya.And winked.

* * *

"She's so pretty," Shuichi finally gasped as the trio of Sakuma-sama, Noriko-san, and K-san, slowly made their way down the street and disappeared. "I mean she's -really-, -really- pretty. It's like she comes from an old fairy tale or something... Who -is- she? Is she a princess? Like...a daimyo's daughter or something?"Ken-chan and Hiro both broke into laughter. By now, Ken-chan had finished Hiro's obi, and had moved on to brushing out Hiro's hair and putting it up into curling loops fastened with combs and bells.

"You probably think Noriko-san is a man, too, don't you?" Ken-chan said with a giggle. "Hey, Shuichi. Go open that cabinet over there. Pull out the scroll underneath the green yukata."

"Well, yes. I mean...isn't he? I mean...what do you mean?" Shuichi slid the cabinet open and lifted up the yukata. No scroll.Hiro winced when Ken-chan pulled on his hair a -bit- too hard. "Noriko-san is a woman. By the emperor's edict, women can't perform in theaters, but Seguchi-san wanted a kokyu player for his plays. And since Seguchi-san -only- gets the very best, he bought the tayuu with the -best- kokyu skills and put her on the stage. But, of course, she has to keep up the ruse that she's a man.""Well..." This was all so confusing. Shuichi shook his head to try to rattle his thoughts together properly. "If she's a woman, and everyone knows, why doesn't someone tell the authorities.""No one in Gion goes against Seguchi. He's....very powerful. He could put anyone here out of business. Besides, some of the most renowned men in Tokyo go to see the plays at the Seguchi Temple Theater. Think how ridiculed they would be if someone suddenly pointed out that Noriko is a woman. No one wants to make those kinds of enemies...." Hiro suddenly jerked his head away from Ken-chan's hands, "Itai! Can't you be a little more ginger? This is my HEAD we're dealing with here, Ken-chan.""I'm just so excited," Ken-chan replied with a pout as he pulled Hiroshi back into place, "We just -have- to find a way to go see that play.""Okaasan would -never- let us. She'd report us as runaways. The Kishibeya is bad, but at least we're apprentice otoko geisha, and not mere waiters or servants.""True," Ken-chan muttered. Waiters. Ugh. Ken-chan shuddered. -That- job was -truly- the bottom of the barrel. Being a waiter had very little to do with serving food at the sangyou, and a whole lot more to do with seeing how many customers you could get to go upstairs with you on a given night. At least the otoko geisha had their gei, and had respect. They weren't mere whores to be used and discarded."Oh, I think I've found the scroll you wanted, Ken-chan." It was, in the end, under a -blue- yukata and not a green one. But, at least Shuichi had done -something- to assist the pair, which made him feel mildly better. "What should I do with it?""Unroll it, of course."Shuichi's nimble fingers found the edge of the paper, and he carefully unfurled the long scroll. A brilliant woodblock painting stared up at him."This is..."Those same eyes, crinkled with mirth, laden with singular beauty, stared up at Shuichi from the picture. Sure, it only captured a mere fraction of her charm and grace, but still... That pose. The fan. The hair."...Sakuma-sama."Hiro smiled and turned to look at Shuichi. "Un. Sakuma-sama. In his very first performance after Seguchi bought him from Okaasan.""HIS?! HIM??"

That couldn't be right. Sakuma-sama was a -woman-. Even K-san referred to Sakuma-sama as "her ladyship".

"There are no women on the stage, Shuichi. Except for Noriko-san, of course. All the female parts are played by the onnagata, actors who dress as women. By the emperor's edict, they also portray themselves as women in public, as payment for the privilege of their status." Hiro pointed to the bottom of the scroll. "See?"Shuichi's fingers trickled down the parchment and ended up at a block of characters which read.

"The Seguchi Temple theater presents Ryoi's "Tales of the Floating World", starring the elegant and mysterious Sakuma-sama...

In -his- very first role...

As an Illustrious Onnagata of Gion!"

--------------------

In Our Next Chapter: Okaasan's anger for letting Ryuichi slip through her fingers all those years ago... The hard training begins for Shuichi, much to his chagrin. A disastrous encounter with Harutaki... And will the boys chance being caught to sneak off to the theater?

--------------------

Glossary and terms:

"Obi tied backwards": Many prostitutes wore front-tying obis in simple knots to allow themselves to undress and re-dress more quickly. Hiroshi's obi: Hiro's obi is tied in the style common to "maiko" or apprentice geisha. Generally, maiko dress in much more festive colors, wear higher geta, and have more elaborate makeup than geisha. However, in this story, the apprentice otoko geisha do not wear makeup or high geta.

gei - Art. The word "geisha" or the Kyoto dialect "geiko" is derived from this term. Geisha means something in the realm of "artiste", and "geiko" means "arts child".

mikos - Shinto priestesses Haruken - Can possibly be translated to "springtime sword", which is just utterly suggestive, if you think about it.

genpuku - Coming of age. For boys, this was when they turned fifteen. Afterwards, they were considered men.

licensed - Female geishas had to be licensed if they wanted to operate legally. At one point (I forget exactly which year), those geishas who also provided sex services (there were some) had to have two licenses, one to perform their art, and one for sex. In the Kishibeya, otoko geisha are licensed a year and a day after genpuku.

yukata - summery-type robe, often the daily wear of the lower classes sempai - Senior, as in...the person with more experience in business or school than you.

Benten - Strangely enough, she is the patron goddess of the arts, and in particular...geisha.

Oniisan - Maiko, apprentice geisha, have to have a geisha to sponsor their training. This person is generally referred to as their "oneesan" or "big sister". Hiroshi, of course, has a "big brother", instead. And, his Oniisan is from a reputable teahouse, rather than a sangyou like the Kishibeya. Ken-chan's Oniisan is Haruma-kun.

Taikomochi - These are licensed "jesters" or "comedians". They are still male geisha, but there are no female counterparts to their art...as the jokes and skits they play out to entertain customers would be considered unfeminine.

kokyu - a string instrument most often played by the "tayuu" class of courtesans. The tayuu class is -all- female. Obviously, if a -male- is an expert in playing the kokyu, it is highly suspicious.

Chikamatsu Monzaemon's 'Love Suicides at Sonezaki' - A sort of "Romeo and Juliet" of the time.

bokken - A wooden sword. Only samurai were allowed to carry actual swords, so even though Noriko is dressed as one, she must carry a fake.

tanto - dagger daimyo - Feudal lords of large territories. They served both the emperor and the shogun, and wielded incredible power within Japan. The samurai, in turn, served the damiyo.

tayuu - The highest level of female courtesan. They are fabulously costly, and generally end up as the consorts of only the richest and most powerful men in Japan. Women in kabuki - Was strictly forbidden by this time. Geisha could perform, but only as "parlor" performers. Never kabuki.

onnagata - Well, we finally learn what the onnagata is. It is a male portraying a female role for kabuki theater. The onnagata of Gion were considered to be the elite actors of the entire country, and of course, Ryuichi is, by now, the most famous of them all. It was said that an accomplished onnagata could be more feminine, graceful, and beautiful than even the most celebrated of geisha or courtesan. Although many actors, by trade, sold sexual favors on the side to suppliment their income, by the time one would reach Ryuichi's heights of fame, this would no longer be necessary.

* * *

Reviews:Thank you to all of the reviewers of the first chapter of "The Illustrious Onnagata", including:  
Yma (Glad you tried it out), KageKitsune16, Kloudy Reignfall, Evil Chibi Malik, Guren, surrealgreen, Lotus-chan (Actually, I do write quite a bit of Kenshin fanfics), Rula (Stay off my feet!), Aibyouka (Everyone in drag!), ven, Yukichi, graviaddict, LethoLogic (Even larger glossary this time, hope that helps), Aja, Hitomi (Now you know about the Onnagata), Patosan, feverdream, and clarichan. 


End file.
